Freedom
by colorful swirls
Summary: "Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," he answers cheerfully. / Dobby-centric.


**disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter (or Dobby).

**written for:** Quidditch League - Appleby Arrows, Chaser 1.

-;-

He's born nearly identical to his six brothers and single sister. He grows into a white pillowcase that is fully identical to seven others. His life is easier than some, and much harder than others.

The burns on his hands, the bruises on his abdomen, and protruding of his bones is similar to all of his siblings'.

What makes Dobby special? What makes him different?

He wants to be free. And unlike the others, he plans to _be_ free, someday.

-;-

Around Dobby's tenth year, his sister and two brothers are sent to another family. The Malfoys, in turn, receive more treasures for the rest of them to polish.

It's happened before, and truth be told, it'll happen again. They're all miserable the rest of that day; that night, his mother tells a story.

Storytelling is always a favorite with the group. And Mother's ability to weave tales takes them all out of their own lives and into another, for a blissful while. But with Mother's back always aching, kidneys always failing, and heart always stopping, storytime is rare.

Tonight, though, she does, only trying to ease their pain. Instead, she inspires them.

-;-

"Halloween night," Mother begins. "He Who Must Not Be Named set out to murder a wizard, a witch, and a child. He failed to murder the child. The child murdered him."

She keeps going, explaining, but the only other words Dobby hears are _Harry Potter_ before he's lost in his own head.

-;-

The next day all the elves are raving. Harry Potter is all they talk about: how he did it, where he lives now, who he'll grow to be.

Dobby thinks about all this, and he talks about it, but what he really wants to know is _will he help_.

-;-

Years later, he is the last house elf the Malfoy's have.

One Christmas, Master Draco comes home from Hogwarts. Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa sit down with him on the couch, and in the process of getting them tea and biscuits, Dobby hears a lot about Harry Potter.

He drops the platter and gets a hit to the ears and a new bruise, but it's worth it.

-;-

One more year, and he has met Harry Potter. He has helped Harry Potter. He has been _freed_ by Harry Potter.

He could Apparate to the distant countryside and live the rest of his days in relative peace, but he chooses to stay and fight. He chooses to help Harry Potter, time and time again.

-;-

He soon has another reason to stay and fight. She's a bit less accustomed to freedom than he is, and she might be a bit unstable. But she's beautiful.

Winky. (And again, he has Harry Potter to thank for even meeting her.)

-;-

Of course, it all ends before it can even truly start. He dies saving Harry Potter, though. He will not fall victim to a Death Eater - to a knife - he chose this fate.

But he cannot let it go, this freedom that he revels in, and so he comes back. As a ghost.

-;-

Dobby watches Harry Potter dig it, reads over the mourning boy's shoulders, allows himself to be touched as others come from the cottage to help. And while he knows they are not doing it for him, they are doing it for Harry Potter, he knows that is better than the reverse.

The grave is handmade and rugged, the marble rough and unbridled, the words nearly illegible. The words, though, are beautiful. Written by Harry Potter, chosen by Harry Potter, proven true by Dobby's own actions.

_Here lies Dobby,_

And yet, he is standing only two feet away from the youngest of them, and though his eyes are sad they are something else, too, they are -

_a free elf._

- free.

-;-

Dobby spends the rest of the war encasing himself in Harry Potter; he in turn finds himself at the Weasley house, wishing to ease their grief, or following the trio themselves as they draw closer and closer still to the end, or watching a game of Quidditch from the sidelines and thinking that Harry Potter would've caught the Snitch faster.

When the end (or should he say the beginning?) approaches, Dobby is there, sobbing and screaming and picking up a frying pan one of the other elves had dropped, waving it and wanting so badly to touch Harry Potter, feel his savior as everyone else.

-;-

He continues to watch them. For a time he remembers the Hogwarts ghosts, how they were transparent but quite visible, and he wonders why no one is able to see him. Eventually, he realizes it is because they don't want to.

Nothing personal, of course. But Harry Potter has lived and died and grown up, and he supposes the universe lets Harry Potter choose his own ghosts.

-;-

Years later, after being with the Potter's and Weasley's for a very long time, he decides he should leave. After all, he wanted freedom, yet he's cooped himself up in this house. He is just reaching the door when footsteps stop him.

It's a boy - Harry Potter's son, he recalls as the face comes into view. The untidy dark hair, the bright green eyes, the same nose and cheekbones and just freckles and a different jaw to show that this boy does not solely belong to Harry Potter.

Dobby has seen this child born, watched him adjust to his mischievous older brother and scheming younger sister, seen him hold his father's hand, been there even as he plays on a swing set with his mother. At only six years of age, this boy has an immense amount of stock in Dobby's mind. It reminds him of another time, when a baby that no one could think of a middle name for inspired him to change his entire way of thinking.

The boy is standing completely still, and Dobby realizes that he is staring. Not at the door, or the wall, or the banister. The boy, Albus Severus Potter, is seeing him.

"Who are you?" Albus asks, startled.

He hadn't realized until now how much he'd missed a voice directed at him, an acknowledge that he is real.

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," he answers cheerfully.

-;-

**a/n: **please don't favorite/follow without reveiewing!


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